


and if you're in love then you are the lucky ones

by LilGreenMochi (AkiSutaHatter)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Slow Burn, and maybe some non-explicit stuff at some point i'm not sure yet, and they were neighbours (oh my god they were neighbours), both qrow and clover deserved better so i'm writing this to cheer myself up, bread is a vital component of love, just your classic baker/blacksmith au, mature rating is for the huge amounts of sexual innuendo that will be in this fic, no beta readers we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiSutaHatter/pseuds/LilGreenMochi
Summary: Clover Ebi was doing great.There was only one problem: his hot, mysterious neighbour just would not react to his attempts at flirting.Qrow Branwen was doing ok.The only thing that he wasn’t doing alright with was holding a conversation of more than 3 sentences with his insanely handsome baking neighbour.
Relationships: Fair Game - Relationship, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 43
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello all and welcome to my first fic for the RWBY fandom because i love fair game and clover ebi deserved better
> 
> follow me on twitter @lilgreenmochi1 to talk about anime
> 
> dedicated to my biffle Kia

Clover Ebi was doing great.

He’d moved out of his parents’ house in small-minded, small-town Alabama at 18 and never looked back. With the minimal savings that he had accrued from years of odd jobs, Clover had found a room for rent in a welcoming, slightly bigger town in Northern California and carved out a living for himself. Now, at age 28, Clover had his own house, which doubled up as his fairly successful bakery, a good group of friends, and a comfortable position within his local community.

There was only one problem: his hot, mysterious neighbour just would not react to his attempts at flirting.

Qrow Branwen was doing ok.

It had taken a lot longer than he would have liked, but four months sober and with a business that was finally enough to support him _and_ keep him focused, 32-year-old Qrow was finally comfortable enough to say that he was doing alright.

The only thing that he wasn’t doing alright with was holding a conversation of more than 3 sentences with his insanely handsome baking neighbour.

When Qrow moved into his new home two and a half months ago, he had barely registered the business next door – but to be honest, he’d been too deep in his own head to notice more than his bed and his workshop. He’d barely gone beyond his front porch for the first month, only interacting with humans when the delivery guy dropped off his weekly groceries or his best (and only, but who’s counting?) friend forced him into an hour long Facetime call. Tai had an uncanny ability to make any conversation about his daughters, and as much as Qrow loved his nieces there were only so many times that he could listen to the same story about Yang’s ‘incredible’ goal in her last soccer match. It was about as much interpersonal contact as he could take.

Then, one fateful Thursday morning, Qrow had made a horrifying discovery: the delivery guy had forgotten his bread. He’d paused for a solid minute, staring dejectedly at the cupboard as if it would make the bread magically appear in the tragically empty space, before sighing and pulling out his phone to check for somewhere nearby that sold bread. Qrow had been slightly surprised to discover that he lived next to a bakery, but was thankful for the excuse to not go wandering around town or have to risk stumbling into a grocery store. He threw on his oldest, most comfortable black hoodie and pulled on some very battered combat boots before hauling himself out of the house.

~

Thursday mornings were, in general, pretty quiet for Clover. This particular Thursday had initially seemed no different from the rest. He had started, as always, at 4am, preparing and baking the day’s offerings to the masses. There was something deeply zen about being covered in flour and listening to top 40 on the radio (playing through his laptop, Clover might have been straight-laced but he wasn’t an 80-year-old British woman), and he had always been an early riser.

Once he opened the bakery at 7:30, Clover relished the morning rush as he and his only employee, Harriet, dashed around selling coffee, cakes, and breakfast pastries to the hungry crowds until everything suddenly went quiet as everyone disappeared to their various places of work. By 10am, the only people in the store were two elderly ladies drinking tea and enjoying slices of carrot cake, Harriet (definitely stock checking in the back and definitely _not_ just on her phone), and himself. Until the door swung open, accompanied by the soft tinkling of the bell tied to its frame. Clover’s eyes widened as his incredibly handsome neighbour slouched into the room, crimson eyes downcast.

“Uh, hi.”

 _Oh god,_ Clover thought, _his voice is as sexy as he is. Damnit, I’m not prepared for this. Is there flour in my hair? Shit, there is! He’s so hot, and he probably thinks I’m a mess already – wait, I’ve just been silently staring at him for way too long…speak, Ebi, SPEAK!_

“Hello! Welcome to ‘Lucky Break’! What can I get for you?” Clover smiled, surreptitiously running a hand through his brunet locks to dislodge any leftover evidence of his morning’s baking.

~

Qrow was nervous to be out in public again for the first time in an age. He rubbed at the back of his head, the feeling of the short soft hairs there soothing against the skin of his palm. He fought to drag his eyes up off the ground to look at the man behind the counter. In hindsight, Qrow would say later, this was the moment when his mostly-going-ok life simultaneously improved tenfold and came crashing down around him.

Because fuck, that smile.

It was charming and warm, a gentle curling of soft-looking lips that seemed so inviting. Combining that deadly smile with shining blue-green eyes and a strong, chiselled face? Devastating.

It took a few seconds for Qrow’s brain to reboot, and he quickly looked away again. “Um, bread. Please.” 

“Sure! What kind of bread?"

 _Shit, I hadn’t prepared for follow-up questions._ “Just a loaf please. Brown.” Qrow spoke hesitantly, as if he was asking permission to buy something. _Fuck, he probably already thinks I’m an idiot. This was a terrible idea._

_~_

“Coming right up!” Clover spoke cheerily, hoping his chipper tone would conceal the internal panic. He was already crushing hard, and had been since he’d seen his new neighbour a fortnight ago wandering around his backyard shirtless and carrying power tools – yes, he had a type, and no, he wasn’t going to apologise for it.

Being in a room with the man was very different from admiring him from afar. Looking at him in his garden from the comfort of Clover’s bedroom window, the younger man hadn’t been able to see the streaks of grey that shot through the almost black hair, or the salt-and-pepper stubble that covered his chin, or the startling blood-red hue of his eyes. From a distance, he was attractive. Up close, he was breathtaking.

“You live next door, right? I think I’ve seen you out in the yard.” Clover asked, trying desperately to keep the conversation going with the man who, as far as he could tell, only left his house for approximately the amount of time it took to walk from his home to the large shed at the other end of the garden. He didn’t want to let the chance to engage this gorgeous man slip through his fingers.

Qrow looked up at him again, a slightly startled look on his face.

_Oh crap, he probably thinks I’m so creepy! That I’ve been staring at him since he moved in! Well, I have, but still –_

“It’s just that the fence between our properties is low, and the window in the kitchen looks right out over the backyard! That’ll be $2.50, by the way.” Clover spoke quickly, handing over a fresh loaf of his home-baked bread wrapped neatly in brown paper.

Qrow dug in his pocket for his wallet, rubbing his fingers against the aged and flaking leather as he did so. He kept his eyes down as he pulled out the change and held it out to Clover. “I, uh, didn’t realise you could see into my yard. Sorry, I’ll be more…clothed…in future.”

Clover grinned at him, tilting his head cockily. “It’s fine. It’s a nice view.”

Qrow fumbled the change onto the counter and stared at Clover, his cheeks heating up and his eyes slightly wide. “Um. Thanks.” He picked up the bread, nodded at the baker once, then spun around and shuffled out as quickly as he could.

_Nice going Ebi, you ruined it. There goes your chance at being friends with the hot guy. He’ll never come back._

The next day, Qrow dropped by and bought a coffee, his face lightly flushed the entire time before he hurried out once again.

The next week, Qrow deliberately left bread off of his weekly shopping order.

~

In the month that followed, Qrow became one of Clover’s most loyal regulars. He would come in every few days and try whatever savoury baked good Clover had prepared specially for that day – he’d mentioned in one of their brief interactions that he didn’t really have much of a sweet tooth – and once a week he’d purchase a single loaf of bread.

This would have been the perfect basis for developing a…relationship – of some kind at least - with the quiet, brooding man next door, except for the fact that Qrow was, well, quiet and brooding.

Clover liked to think that he was pretty good at reading people. Scratch that, he _knew_ he was very good at reading people. It was why he’d been promoted through the ranks so quickly as an army cadet through his highschool years - even though his parents had forced him into it in a desperate attempt to ‘straighten him out’ as his father so gently put it, he’d found that he suited the discipline and the leadership roles. He might not have been the most aggressive or outwardly commanding, but he had a way of keeping people in check that made them want to listen to him and follow his orders. That, and the fact that he was fast and strong enough to shut down any assholes who didn’t like his confidence and popularity.

But back to the point.

He had always been good at understanding how people worked. Clover could peel back the layers and make someone feel comfortable, mould his speech patterns and personality to bring the best out of them. He could build a relationship with anyone, and he could make sense of everyone.

Everyone, it seemed, except for Qrow. Qrow No-Last-Name-Given, because he hadn’t even managed to pry that much out of the mysterious bastard.

Clover wasn’t sure if he was shy, uninterested, or just completely oblivious. The comment about how good Qrow looked shirtless hadn’t been the last attempt at flirting, far from it, but since then nothing had garnered Clover more than a confused look or an awkward laugh. Harriet had told their friends, over drinks in Elm’s apartment one night, that it had become painful to watch.

“Honestly, it’s getting a little pathetic. You’re basically throwing yourself at him, and he’s either too clueless or too awkward to tell you to stop.” Harriet leveled him with an even stare, and Clover threw his head back against the sofa with a groan.

“I just wish he would give me an indication either way. I’m giving him everything! Any other man would have been seduced by now.” The brunet sighed dramatically, taking a swig of his beer.

“So you’ve finally fallen for someone and it’s the one gay guy in town who doesn’t take one look at your arms and beg to suck your dick? That’s rough dude.” Marrow gave him a look that made it clear he didn’t actually feel any sympathy for Clover, and received a middle finger for his trouble.

Elm patted his knee reassuringly. “I’m sure your charms haven’t failed you yet. Maybe he’s just straight.”

Clover sighed dramatically. “God, I hope not. It’d be a loss for the gays, and I’m too used to winning.”

“Too used to winning, he says.” Harriet rolled her eyes, putting her drink down to pull a simpering expression and leant forward, her chin cupped in the palms of her hands as she looked at Clover with fake interest. “ _Oh, Mr Qrow! How lovely to see you again! That completely plain black hoodie looks sooooo good on you, you have such good taste!”_

Clover pouted at her. “I’m not that bad. If I was, he’d _definitely_ have noticed that I was flirting by now.”

“Maybe you should just be clear with him, and directly say that you’re interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with him.” Vine said, to which Harriet booed.

“Vine, stop trying to take away my only source of entertainment at work! Watching Clover fail to get a man’s attention is the only thing that stops me from falling asleep when work is slow.”

Clover frowned. “You could try actually doing your job if you’re so bored.”

Harriet smirked at him. “I can’t help that I’m fast.”

~

“So who is it that has your attention?” 

Tai’s pointed question snapped Qrow’s attention back to the screen of his laptop, which was now filled with the judgemental expression on his best friend’s face.

“No one. What are you talking about?” Qrow frowned, folding his arms.

“Qrow. Buddy. Old pal. I’ve known you since we were 11. I know the face you make when you’re thinking about someone you’re interested in. So, who’s the lucky person?” Tai raised an eyebrow, his image on the screen unimpressed as he raised a mug of coffee to his lips.

“It’s no one, really. Just this guy. He’s...nice. It’s not like that.” Qrow sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He runs the bakery next door. He’s basically the only human I talk to other than you.”

“Aw, you’re talking to a stranger? He must be really special.” Tai teased, grinning. “You should go for it! Ask him out on a date.”

Qrow stared at him in silence for a moment, then looked down at the table top. “You know why I can’t do that, Tai.”

Tai sighed, the sound of him putting his mug down next to his own laptop ringing loudly through Qrow’s speakers. “You can’t let him put you off relationships forever, bud. He’s not worth the space he’s taking up in your brain. Besides, you’re somewhere completely new. You’re not the same person you were back then. Isn’t it worth getting back out there, giving someone a chance?” Try as he might to make the questions sound light and jovial, Qrow could tell his friend was still worried. Less worried than he had been a few months back, but still.

“I don’t know. Not yet, at least. Besides, if you saw this guy you’d realise it wouldn’t even be worth me trying. He’s so far out of my league we’re barely even playing the same sport.” 

“Don’t say that Qrow, you’re a catch. Trust me.” Tai winked, and Qrow barked a short laugh. 

“Oh yeah, like you’re a paragon of good taste. You dated my _sister._ ”

“Ah, but as much as that was a mistake, she’s the reason I have Yang. That has to count for something.”

“Nah, I think that’s just because your daughter is naturally cool. Takes after her uncle.”

“Speaking of Yang, is it still alright for her and Ruby to stay with you for a week over winter break? You know I hate leaving them when they’re off school but work is refusing to change the dates of the meetings.” Tai looked truly pained to have to ask, and Qrow waved a hand to assuage his worries.

“I’ll look after the girls whenever you need me to. Plus, ‘m good now, remember? Got my purple chip from my new group just a couple days ago.” Qrow pulled the chain that he kept hidden beneath his shirt up so that Tai could see the bright purple token, clacking against the four others he’d received at different milestones of his sobriety.

“I’m so proud of you Qrow, you know that right?” Tai spoke softly, his gentle smile brightening up the room even in its pixelated form.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” Qrow felt his cheeks warming, as always unsure what to do when faced with his best friend’s sincere kindness. A knock on the door rescued him from having to think of something more eloquent to say, and he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “I should go get that, it’s probably the supplies I ordered. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye! Go ask that guy on a date!” Qrow quickly hung up, cutting Tai off before he could go on. Pushing himself out of his kitchen chair, Qrow shuffled towards the door. He pulled it open, expecting to see his usual mailman glaring at him for ordering another heavy delivery of metals.

What he got was a sweaty and smiling Clover, wearing skinny jeans covered in flour and a dark blue t-shirt that was so tight it should have been illegal, carrying a huge cardboard box.

Qrow froze.

Clover stood in awkward silence for a few seconds, before clearing his throat. “This accidentally got delivered to me, and I didn’t notice until I got it back into the stockroom. I’d love to stand here and hold it all day, but it’s so heavy I think my arms might fall off. Can I put it down somewhere?”

_Say something, idiot!_

“Uh, yeah, sorry, let me take that-” Qrow reached out to take the box from Clover’s - _straining, sweaty, veiny, oh fuck...focus Qrow! -_ arms, but the brunet grinned and twisted his body away, holding the box out of his reach.

“At least let me show off a little bit. Where do you want me to leave it?”

Qrow felt his cheeks warming, which he tried to conceal by stepping back and swinging the door open. “If you could take it through to the kitchen, that would be great - it’s just through there.” He pointed directly through the hall to the door at the end, and Clover nodded with a smile as he hefted the box slightly higher in his grip and began to stride through the house.

Qrow could barely process what was happening - Clover was in his house? Helping him out? Wanting to show off… for him? 

_God, he’s so strong. And nice. What the fuck? Calm down, Qrow, he’s just being neighbourly. People are like that in small towns. Probably._

The sound of Clover placing the box down on the kitchen table with a resounding thud dragged Qrow’s attention away from his body and up to his face. 

“What did you order, a box of rocks?” Clover teased, a small smile gracing his lips. 

Qrow looked away, an embarrassed flush turning his cheeks a dusky pink. “Uh, close. It’s. Um. Metal. I’m a blacksmith.” 

Clover’s eyebrows shot up and he whistled appreciatively. “Metalworking, huh? That’s really cool. So I guess carrying heavy stuff isn’t gonna be enough to impress you then.” He shrugged. “I’ll just have to find something else.”

Qrow looked at him, eyes wide with confusion. “Uh, you’re plenty impressive. I’m sure you don’t need to worry about my opinion.”

“Ah, but Mr…?” Clover paused, waiting for Qrow to fill in the blank.

“Oh, Branwen. Qrow Branwen.”

“Well, Mr Branwen, I am definitely concerned about your opinion of me. But sadly, I must return to the starving masses waiting to buy my pastries. Will I see you soon?” Clover smiled teasingly, already starting back towards Qrow’s door. The older man trailed after him, even more confused than before. 

“Um, yeah, probably. Tomorrow, I think. Thanks, by the way, for the. Uh. For bringing my stuff over.”

As he stood in the doorway, Clover looked over his shoulder at Qrow with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.” And with that, he was gone.

Qrow made his way into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, one arm thrown over his eyes. Just that small interaction had left him completely devoid of energy, mind reeling with what the hell Clover could possibly have been talking about. 

And suddenly, Qrow had an idea. He knew exactly how he was going to repay Clover.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot believe how lovely everyone has been about this so far??? thank you all so much for your lovely comments and kudos <3 i wanted to get out a second chapter pretty quickly so this one is a little shorter and has some more development of these characters to set up the world a little! hope you enjoy!!!

Qrow Branwen was not an insomniac.

Well, not intentionally at least.

He couldn’t help that when he got really into a project, it absorbed all of his attention until he completely blocked out his surroundings . Qrow’s world narrowed down to the feeling of chilled metal against warm skin, to the sound of steel striking against steel, to the smell of molten metal in the forge. Days and nights could pass him by and he would be completely unaware, safe within the comfort of his workshop.

Qrow had picked a profession that overwhelmed his senses for a reason.

He’d started working almost immediately after Clover had left, pushing aside his half-finished commissions to clear space on the workbench for his sketchpad. An hour and several confused Google searches later, Qrow finally had a design he was happy with. It was pretty simple, but he figured the Clover’s personal style must at least match up somewhat with the aesthetic of his bakery. Minimalist and classy seemed to suit him fine so far. Besides, Qrow was just making it with...the really nice steel alloy he’d been saving for a rainy day. Well. He could always just order some more.

It took him most of the night - ok, the entire night, he didn’t collapse into his bed until well past 4am - but he’d managed to finish it. A beautifully curved and serrated blade, with a nicely shaped oak wood handle that had been carefully varnished. Another blade that Qrow could be proud of, the one thing he allowed himself to feel truly good about.

Metalworking had always been Qrow’s favourite hobby. It was his happy place. It had always been his escape from the world; nothing could get to him while he was working on a blade, and Qrow had desperately needed that comfort as a child and a teenager. The years when blacksmithing had been taken from him had been the hardest of his life.

When Qrow finally roused himself from his exhausted post-work slumber, he picked up his carefully crafted gift and placed it into one of the numerous plain white boxes of varying sizes that he used to ship his commissions. Checking the time, Qrow started - it was already 3pm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for so long, or so well. Working on something so all-consuming had always completely knocked him out when he was younger, but it had been years since even metalwork had been able to entirely drown out the racket in his head enough for him to sleep peacefully for more than a few hours.

_I’m finally getting better._

A quick shower and a failed attempt at taming his bird’s nest of hair later, Qrow was dressed in a pair of his skinniest black jeans and a long-sleeved red t-shirt, standing on his front porch and slowly losing every ounce of confidence that he’d built up while he was working. 

_He was probably just joking about making it up to him, and now this is gonna be weird. There’s no way he wants a gift from some random customer who just happens to come in a lot. Is this creepy? Fuck, it’s definitely creepy._

Qrow sighed, hand automatically reaching towards his pocket before his fingers twitched and he moved to touch the chain of tokens around his neck instead. _Well, I’ve made it now. No point in not taking it. I’ll just...avoid him for the rest of my life. Yeah, that sounds about right._

Steeling himself, Qrow headed out the door.

~

It had been an insanely busy afternoon, with an endless stream of people bustling through the bakery and completely decimating Clover’s daily stock. Now, at 4pm, the crowds had finally dispersed enough for Clover to be able to take a minute to pour himself a coffee and lean dramatically back against the countertop. He could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding at his temples and he sighed, letting his eyes fall closed for a second.

Clover loved moments like this, the silence in between the madness of the mundane. He supposed it was to be expected, as the only independent bakery in their neighbourhood, that he’d be busy from dawn to dusk, and usually he loved it. Clover had always needed to be busy, to keep proving himself. His parents had been fairly well off in a pretty nice town (even if the general population’s opinions on the LGBTQ+ community were a little...archaic, to put it nicely), he’d been popular in high school, and he’d straddled the line between nerd and jock with apparent ease. 

To anyone looking in from the outside, it seemed like Clover had had everything handed to him on a silver platter. They hadn’t seen the way his father had pushed him and forced him to fit into the mould of the ‘perfect son’, or the way his mother had cried and screamed and told him he was sick in the head when she’d caught him kissing his high school boyfriend. They hadn’t noticed how hard he’d worked, staying in the school library far later than his contemporaries and pushing his body at wrestling and football practice until he ached and bled. 

Clover supposed it was a flaw of his, really, the need to prove that he could do things by himself, achieve them his own way. But then again, it was what had led to him standing in a business that he owned surrounded by happy customers and delicious smells. Even if it was overwhelming at times, it was everything he’d ever wanted.

The ringing of the bell signalled the opening of the door and Clover groaned internally, forcing himself to stand. When he opened his eyes, he suddenly felt a million times more energised.

Because Qrow had walked in, awkward stoop and beautiful face and all, and had the audacity to attack Clover with an unfairly adorable sheepish smile. Bastard. Honestly, Clover would have needed about half an hour’s warning to be ready to face that expression. It was rude of Qrow, really, to turn up without notice and send Clover into a fit of heart palpitations.

“Uh, hi Clover.”

 _God, telling him to ‘just call me Clover’ was the best decision I ever made. Him just saying my name shouldn’t sound so sexy._ “Good afternoon, Qrow! What can I do for you?” Clover mentally patted himself on the back for making it through without falling to one knee and begging for Qrow’s hand in marriage. Or at least a blowjob. Giving or receiving, he wasn’t fussy.

“I, um, I brought you something. To, you know, say thanks for yesterday.” The small smile that Qrow graced him with when their eyes met, mixed with the fact that Qrow had _made him a gift_ was enough to convince Clover that he was either dreaming or about 3 seconds away from having a full-blown heart attack.

This man really was going to be the death of him.

~

This was absolute torture.

It was like the universe was conspiring against him specifically to make this encounter as awkward as possible. Qrow Branwen, the self-professed master of avoiding eye contact, was being _forced_ to look directly into Clover’s uncomfortably expressive eyes to avoid blatantly staring at (read: dribbling over) Clover’s bare arms.

It was unnecessarily cruel, really, to present him with Clover in a tight, sleeveless hoodie. _Why does a baker need to be so goddamn buff? He’s built like fucking Captain America._ The muscles in Clover’s shoulders were so inviting, the skin smooth and taut over the raw power within, beckoning to Qrow to reach out and touch. It was all Qrow could do to keep his hands glued to the box he was holding.

_Oh shit, right, the box._

Qrow quickly pushed it out in front of him, trying and failing to seem nonchalant. Clover took the box carefully, a wide smile pressing deep dimples into his cheeks.

“You know, I was joking yesterday about making it up to me but I’m incredibly glad that you took me seriously, I’ll never turn down a gift. Thank you!” Clover grinned, holding the box next to his ear and giving it a gentle shake.

“Open it and decide if you like it before you thank me.” Qrow replied, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and trying to ignore the way his heart leapt in his chest at the genuine appreciation in Clover’s voice.

“Yes sir.” Clover shot him a teasing wink and smiled wider at the immediate flush that came to Qrow’s cheeks. The brunet placed the box down on the counter and carefully unfolded it, his face softening from teasing to happy as he saw the carefully made pastry knife sitting within. Clover picked it up carefully, feeling the weight of the handle and how well it was balanced, the cool curved metal of the blade perfectly serrated. It was an exquisite thing, one that would have been insanely expensive if Clover had tried to buy it from a baking supply specialist, and Qrow was giving it to him like it was nothing.

“I, uh, made it from some blade designs I already had, just changed a little to suit a more delicate tool. I figured you probably had one of these already, but...it’s always nice to have options, right?” Qrow said, trying to keep his voice level enough to hide his nerves. He looked back up at Clover’s face just in time to be blinded by the full force of his thousand-megawatt smile.

“I accidentally blunted my pastry knife a couple of days ago, and I haven’t had time to get it sharpened yet. This is amazing! It’s a perfect blade, have you made baking equipment before?” Clover asked, examining the blade carefully. Qrow was pleased with the appreciative way his teal eyes skimmed over the surface of the metal, noting the smooth finish and the lack of imperfections in the knife.

“Uh, no. It’s a first for me. I did a lot of Googling to work out how it was supposed to look. I hope it’s alright for, um, cutting...pastry.” Qrow trailed off, reluctant to admit how much time he’d put into ensuring that his gift was about as perfect as you could get with a blade made over just 12 hours.

“Qrow, it’s perfect. This is beautiful, you’re really talented. Thank you.” There was too much in his voice, in the intonation of his speech. It was too kind, too genuine, like he really thought that Qrow had done something good. Being the focus of Clover’s positive attention was so overwhelming and Qrow could feel his heartbeat speeding up. It was hard to believe that he hadn’t messed up this interaction in some way, that he’d done something right. He tried to quash the hope that he felt building, but he couldn’t help it - _maybe I could actually make a friend again. A proper connection with someone that might actually like me._

“Although,” Clover smirked slightly and tilted his head. “You know giving someone a knife as a gift is bad luck right?”

Qrow’s face went even paler than he usually was. _Bad luck, bringing bad luck again, even here you're still bad luck._

A familiar face flashed into his mind for a second, accompanied by a voice he would recognise anywhere. _“You’re like a bad luck charm, Qrow, you make life difficult for everyone around you.”_

He took an involuntary step back, trying to calm the voice in his head and failing to conceal the panic in his eyes.

_All these years and I'm still bad luck  
_

~

It was impossible to miss the way Qrow stiffened as the colour drained from his already pallid skin. Panic gripped Clover at the sudden realisation that he’d said something very, very wrong. _Shit, fix it , Ebi, fix it! What did your aunt always say? It’s only bad luck if there’s nothing given in return._

Clover quickly lent over to the glass display case next to the counter and pulled out a fresh baked cheese twist, one of the last of the day. He held it out to Qrow with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, it’s just an old superstition, and if I give you something then it’s an exchange rather than a gift!”

Qrow hesitantly moved forward again, a little jerkily like his muscles had seized up and forgotten momentarily how to work properly. He took the proffered pastry and Clover could see the way he carefully let out a shaky breath as his eyes refocused on his surroundings. 

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know it was bad luck. Guess I’m just an unlucky guy.” Qrow spoke quietly, chuckling self-deprecatingly at the end. Clover frowned slightly. Though the words themselves had been mostly joking, there was something about the slight tremor in the other man’s voice that told Clover that there was something much deeper that he was missing. _But,_ he supposed, _now isn’t the time to ask about anything like that. I need to cheer him up, I have to see that gorgeous smile again._

“I don’t know about that. How unlucky can you be if you get to live next door to the guy with all the baked goods?” Clover lent forward onto the counter, eyes pointedly flicking towards the pastry still loosely held in Qrow’s slack hand. Obediently, the black-haired man lifted the treat to his lips and took a bite, and Clover almost huffed out a sigh of relief at the small smile that formed on Qrow’s lips.

“I guess you’re right.”

“And anyway, I’ve always been told that I’m a pretty lucky guy, so it follows that getting to live next to the cute blacksmith is a stroke of luck for me as well, right?” Clover’s voice took on a teasing lilt, and some of the colour came back to Qrow’s face in the form of a light blush dusting the tips of his ears and cheekbones.

“I, um. Well. I guess that’s up to your interpretation?” Qrow mumbled, seemingly a lot calmer already. 

“Mm, definitely a stroke of luck.” Clover grinned, then bit his lip. Vine’s words from a few days before popped back into his head, and now he was considering it. Honesty was the best policy, right?

“Well, I should. You know. Get back to my forge. Work to do and everything.” Qrow gestured with a thumb over his shoulder and started back towards the door, shuffling quickly away.

“Wait!” Clover called out, before the more reserved side of his brain could stop him. “Um, as much as I enjoy chatting when you come in, I’d like us to get to know each other a little better. So, coffee? Tomorrow afternoon?” He waited with bated breath, as Qrow paused with his hand on the door.

“Yeah, I’d like that too. Tomorrow afternoon sounds...nice. After you close?” Qrow smiled at him, those crimson eyes simultaneously piercing and guarded.

“Perfect. I can’t wait.” Clover smiled and waved as Qrow headed out of the bakery into the evening sunset. Clover was still staring at the door and grinning like an idiot as Harriet poked her head around the door and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, that was a rollercoaster. You’re such a loser.” She folded her arms over her jam-stained apron with a smile.

“If I’m such a loser, why do I just keep winning?” Clover turned and shot her a cocksure grin. 

Qrow Branwen had no idea what was about to hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be a rlly short one with their date and should be up v soon so watch this space!!! again follow me on twitter @lilgreenmochi1 if you want to listen to me scream about fair game endlessly


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i knocked this chapter out pretty quickly so that i could post it to fit in with day two of fair game week: date/domestic. So enjoy this very domestic date with a lot of feelings, some flirting, and tai being himself
> 
> enjoy!!

Clover was starting to think that inviting Qrow over for coffee had been a terrible, terrible decision. 

He’d left closing to Harriet today, so he could have an extra hour to clean up his house and himself, but all it had really done was force him to spend an hour systematically going through everything in his wardrobe and finding that suddenly he wanted to throw every previously acceptable article of clothing in the garbage.

After deliberating for far too long, Clover decided on a dark blue button-up shirt with short, cuffed sleeves that showed off the results of all of his evening gym sessions, and strategically ripped jeans that clung tightly to his (not to toot his own horn too much but frankly great) ass and thighs. Finally deeming himself suitably hot-but-in-an-approachable-way, Clover looked around and tried to decide if it would be presumptuous to tidy his bedroom.

As much as he liked to think of himself as the romantic type, Clover had always been...goal oriented. He’d dated casually a bit, and had had a few one night stands, but there wasn’t exactly a thriving gay nightlife scene in a spread-out town with only around 20,000 people living in it. Clover had been too busy with his fledgling business to worry too much about love, but now he was approaching the big three-oh and was starting to think it was time to start looking, at least.

Of course, it was just his luck that the second he decided to do so, the lanky, mysterious goth of his dreams walked into the house next door carrying a few cardboard boxes and a suitcase.

Clover decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to waste time cleaning his room. After all, this was just a casual, getting-to-know-you sort of date. He wasn’t that easy, and his resolve wouldn’t be swayed. Not even by piercing red eyes, a sweet smile that hinted at a soft centre below that closed-off exterior, legs that went on for miles, a perfectly round ass that would make a perfect handful…

_ Focus, Ebi! Not the time. _

Definitely not the time, because Clover could hear the buzzer going off, alerting him that someone was standing outside the door of his shop and waiting to be let in.

_ Well, it’s now or never. _

~

Qrow was very quietly freaking out.

About an hour earlier, he had Facetimed Tai in a panic, asking what you wear when someone insanely handsome and charming who has made several comments about wanting to impress you and has maybe seen you shirtless invites you over to their house for coffee.

Needless to say, Tai had not been particularly helpful.

“Look, all I’m saying is that skirt looked great on you in college. You really rocked the tartan.” Tai’s wide grin took up most of Qrow’s laptop screen, and the smile only got wider when Qrow flipped off the camera. “Bud, just dress like you normally do. Clearly he doesn’t mind the whole ‘still goth in my 30s’ thing.”

Qrow glowered at the camera. “I am not goth.”

Tai raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to your wardrobe.”

Qrow threw up his hands in despair, turning away from the screen and staring into the black abyss of his closet. Shit, maybe he was kind of goth. “This is what I get for asking a straight guy for fashion advice,” Qrow murmured.

“You didn’t come to me for fashion advice. You came to me for  _ dating  _ advice, which I am excellent at giving.” Tai’s tone was far too pleased for Qrow’s liking.

The black-haired man whirled around to face his pixelated friend again. “This is  _ not  _ a date.”

Tai stared him down, unimpressed. “So, you freaked out like this every time I invited you over?”

Qrow didn’t reply.

Tai sighed. “I know every single doubt that is running through your mind right now, but you have to trust me. From what you’ve said, it sounds like this guy really likes you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve thought that,” Qrow muttered under his breath.

“Believe me, Qrow, I know you have every right to be wary. But would it kill you to think that just once, someone might just like you because of you?”

Qrow sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I just...can’t get my hopes up. Not again.”

Tai raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok, I’ll drop it. Just promise me you’ll let yourself be happy, if he makes you happy.”

Qrow smiled softly. “I’ll try my hardest. I’d better go and get ready.”

“I expect full details later, mister!” Tai said, waving his goodbyes.

Qrow smirked. “I don’t kiss and tell.” He closed the Facetime window quickly before Tai could respond. Now alone once more, Qrow sighed and looked back at the offending wardrobe.

_ Would it kill me to hope? At this point, it might. _

~

Clover took a deep breath and steeled himself as he pulled open the door and greeted Qrow with a grin. The grin froze on his face as his eyes skimmed over Qrow’s tall, slender frame.

_ Oh, so he does have colour in his wardrobe. Fuck, I’m going to die. _

His jeans were the usual black, so skin-tight they seemed almost painted directly onto his distractingly long legs, and he was wearing a plain black t-shirt that hung loose around his middle, concealing the ropes of lean muscle that Clover knew (from his illicit window-watching) lay underneath. But today, the black was accented by an oversized red and black plaid jacket and matching bright red Doc Martens. He looked like a sexy, lanky lumberjack and Clover was discovering things about himself that he had never considered before. Like, for instance, the fact that he apparently had a thing for lumberjacks.

Qrow was standing, a little awkwardly, in the doorway, as Clover hit the hard reboot button on his brain and waited for his thoughts to kick back into gear.

“As much as I like looking at the outside of your house, it’s starting to get kind of cold out here. You know, September and all.” Qrow said, a smile creeping into his voice as his eyes flicked up to meet Clover’s.

“Right, of course, come on in!” Clover stepped back, swinging the door open and letting Qrow through. “The door upstairs is that one over there, just head through.” Qrow nodded, walking over towards the indicated entryway.

Clover swore under his breath. On second thought, sending Qrow ahead of him had been a terrible idea. He’d never noticed before the… _ slinky  _ way the other man’s hips moved when he walked.

_ Lord give me the strength to not flirt this man into oblivion. _

He followed Qrow up the stairs, then overtook as the taller man paused in the entryway and waited to be led through the house.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Make yourself comfortable, mi casa es su casa and all that.” Clover gestured towards the living room, a fairly minimalist but comfortable space with a large television (that he only turned on when it was his turn to host his friends for a movie night), several plush chairs, and a long sofa. He was proud of the healthy, luscious plants that were dotted around the room, and he preened internally as Qrow looked around the room, seemingly impressed by the décor.

“We’re still at formal Spanish, huh?” Qrow joked, rough voice sending tingles down Clover’s spine.

“For now. So, you hablo espaniol?” Clover replied, his Spanish pronunciation deliberately terrible.

Qrow smiled. “Nope. I just passed Spanish 101 in college."

Clover grinned. “Me too, though I basically forgot everything straight away. Do you speak any other languages at all?”

There was a pause before Qrow spoke. “One. But I’d like to see if you can work it out before I tell you. I gave you a hint when you came over to drop off that package. That should be enough for you to go on, right?” His tone was teasing, and Clover felt like his legs had been swept out from under him. The shuffling, awkward, shy man that came into his bakery had disappeared, replaced by this more confident version of Qrow who teased and pushed and gave as good as he got.

Clover Ebi was really, truly fucked.

~

“So, can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea, something else?” Clover leant against the doorframe, eyes trained on Qrow as he walked around the room. Qrow hadn’t been the centre of someone’s attention in such a pleasant way in years, and it was making the skin on the back of his neck feel hot.

“Coffee would be great, thanks. Black, no sugar.” Qrow replied, turning around from where he had been inspecting Clover’s bookshelves.

Clover smiled, teal eyes twinkling with mirth. “Dark as your soul, right?”

Qrow flushed. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Clover laughed, stepping backwards towards the kitchen. “Coming right up, Mr Edgy. Make yourself comfortable.” And with that, he disappeared from sight. Qrow stared at the space where he’d just been for a moment, the image of Clover’s biceps straining against the sleeves of his shirt where his arms were folded lingering like the afterimage of a flash.

Moving over to the comfortable looking sofa, Qrow sunk into the plush cushions as he pulled out his phone. He sent a quick text to Tai:

**birdbrain: just at clover’s now. if you don’t hear from me in two hours i’m probably dead but know i died at the hands of the hottest man ive ever seen**

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed.

**po the dragon warrior: 1. i’m hurt that someone’s taken my top spot 2. have fun, don’t die 3. don’t put out on the first date**

Qrow glared at the screen, then quickly locked his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket as Clover re-entered the room carrying two steaming mugs of strong-smelling, properly bitter coffee. It was good to know that Qrow wouldn’t have to worry about having to stomach terrible coffee to hang out with Clover.

Every man has his limits.

Qrow took the proffered mug with a muttered thanks, blowing lightly across the surface of the pitch-black liquid and watching as the steam billowed off. It gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the fact that Clover had foregone every other free seat in the room to sit next to him on the sofa, not close enough to touch but just near enough that Qrow could feel a faint buzzing at the edge of his personal space that he was frightened to realise he didn’t mind.

He wanted Clover to come closer. Which, if you knew Qrow (not that many people did anymore), you would know was not something he usually desired.

“I hope it meets your dark and broody standards.” Clover, ever teasing, smiled at Qrow. His eyes crinkled in a way that suggested that smiling was his default expression.

“I guess we’ll have to see.” Qrow smirked, warming his hands against the porcelain surface of the mug.

“So, I’m dying to find out more about the man behind the bangs. What does being a blacksmith actually entail in the modern day?” Clover asked, turning his body so that he was facing Qrow with one leg up on the sofa cushions.

Qrow looked at the jean-clad leg, noting the carefully designed rips that stretched across Clover’s muscular thigh. He swallowed nervously. “Uh, well. I mostly do commissions nowadays. I get a lot of cosplay and historical re-enactment weaponry, and metal jewellery. I could…show you my workshop, if you want.”

Clover beamed, as if he could think of nothing he’d like more than being stuck in an overwhelmingly hot and stuffy room with Qrow while he made a racket beating metal. “I’d honestly really like that. It’d be good to see a master at work, if that knife you made me is any indication of your skill.”

Qrow flushed and looked down into the depths of the mug. “It’s not that impressive. I’ve just been doing it a long time.”

Clover looked at him searchingly, an expression in those teal eyes that Qrow had never seen before. It was like he was looking straight through the walls Qrow had built around himself, into his brain and picking it apart to find the roots of his insecurities. “You shouldn’t do that, you know.”

“Do what?’ Qrow tilted his head, confused.

“Deflect a compliment. You’re talented, Qrow.” Once again, Clover was too much. He was so sincere, so  _ genuine  _ in his conviction that Qrow was skilled. He tried to hold Clover’s gaze, but couldn’t face the intensity of in the other man’s eyes and Qrow looked away, gazing at the carpet.

“Uh, so what’s it like being a baker? I don’t think I’ve successfully baked anything, ever.”

Clover clearly noticed the deliberate change of topic, but decided to let it slide. “It’s perfect for me, honestly. It’s a lot of early starts, but I’m definitely a morning person.”

Qrow looked back at the other man, eyes sweeping up and down his body. He smiled crookedly. “Of course you’re a morning person, boy scout.”

Clover frowned, but he was smiling. “Boy scout?”

Qrow gestured expansively at Clover’s person. “Everything about you just screams ‘boy scout’. You always stand up so straight and the one time I managed to crawl out of bed when you opened you were fully functional at 8am. And you’re so… chipper.”

Clover smiled wryly, raising an eyebrow at Qrow as the black-haired man trailed off, cheeks pink. “Oh, that’s not boy scout behaviour.” He pointed a finger towards the centre of his own chest. “Army cadet, five years. You’re in the company of Captain Clover Ebi.”

Qrow tapped two fingers to his temple in a mocking salute. “A man in uniform huh?”

Clover leaned forward a little, eyes roaming appreciatively across Qrow’s face. “Do you like a man in uniform, Qrow?” His tone danced the fine line between questioning and teasing, as if he really wanted to know the answer but also couldn’t resist the opportunity to fluster Qrow.

An image tried to claw its way to the front of Qrow’s mind but he pushed it away, ignoring the memories dragged behind it. He bit his lip, crimson eyes locking with teal. “Less about the uniform and more about the person inside it.”

Clover sat back a little, eyes dilating and cheeks a little flushed. Qrow cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. It was strong and bitter, coating his tongue with its deep, roasted flavour.

“This is, uh. Really nice coffee.” Qrow said, feeling a little on edge from the intensity of their exchange.

Clover breathed out softly and grinned at Qrow, raising his own mug. “I grind it myself. I might be a morning person, but even morning people rely on caffeine to get them going.”

“I knew no-one could be as naturally chirpy as you are first thing in the morning. You’re cheating, just like the rest of us.” Qrow returned Clover’s smile, a little smaller but definitely there.

“Shh, don’t tell anyone. I like my customers to think I’m superhuman.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. “But you’re telling me? You don’t want me to think you’re superhuman?”

Clover grinned, a cocky tilt to his head. “Qrow, we both know that you’re more than just a customer. And besides,” and at this he shifted slightly closer, so that their knees were pressed together and Clover was now distinctly in Qrow’s personal space, “I’m guessing you think highly enough of me already.”

Qrow didn’t move a muscle, partly because he felt caught in Clover’s intense gaze and partly because he didn’t want to be the first to back down, the one to lose this little game that Clover had started between them. The silence surrounded them like a thick blanket, the tension in the air almost palpable.

Clover’s look was...searching, almost, like he was trying to find out the truth of his assumption just by staring into Qrow’s soul. Qrow suppressed a shudder, feeling his resolve to maintain eye contact waver, but just as he did Clover looked away down to his coffee.

Qrow’s eyes scanned the room, looking for something to change the topic, when his eyes fell upon a Nintendo and a copy of Mario Kart stacked neatly together underneath the television.    


“Hey Clover? How good are you at Mario Kart?” Qrow let a hint of challenge slip into his tone.

Clover looked up, a spark of something mischievous in his eyes. “I would say that I’m incredibly good at Mario Kart. Are you up for the challenge?”

Qrow laughed, and he could have sworn he saw Clover’s mouth drop open slightly at the sound. “Oh, if you think I’m going down without a fight, you have another thing coming…” Summoning up all his courage, Qrow threw Clover a wink. “...Captain.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, please follow me on twitter @lilgreenmochi1 to see me yell about fair game literally constantly

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhh thanks for reading!! comments are very much appreciated!!
> 
> again i'm on twitter @lilgreenmochi1 if you wanna scream at me about fair game


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